


John's Pizza Habit

by hutchynstarsk



Series: Life With John [1]
Category: Almost Human
Genre: Dorian worries, Gen, Mushy, android angst, pizza app
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-14 23:57:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1283554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hutchynstarsk/pseuds/hutchynstarsk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's eating too much pizza.  As his new roommate, Dorian is worried.  He worries a lot about John.</p><p> </p><p>set shortly after the end of S1</p>
            </blockquote>





	John's Pizza Habit

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I needed some mushy comfort after S1 ended... :)
> 
> I hope to make this a series, but we'll see. ^__^

**John's Pizza Habit**

 

by Allie

 

Blue lights touched Dorian's face, and he got that abstracted, thoughtful expression on him.

"John.  Are you certain you should be ordering so much pizza?"

"What are you talking about, you nosy android?" John growled, not bothering to look at his partner and best friend.  He was too busy swiping a hand across the pizza app, picking out what toppings he wanted.

Dorian smiled, a sweet expression crossing his symmetrical face.   _You called me an android, not a toaster or a robot.  Thank you, John!_  He didn't say it aloud, however; John would be embarrassed, and would go out of his way to be rude and confrontational the rest of the evening.  Dorian couldn't have that; he needed to talk to John about this pizza thing.  He'd never give in if he realized Dorian had caught him in yet another thaw.

Of course, the biggest, the best thaw?  That was moving in together.  

Yes, just two days after the present of his new limb (which has most certainly NOT been a bribe, no matter what Rudy grumbled!), John had given in and said, "All right, I suppose you can be my roommate.  But you can't annoy me.  Silent mode will be getting a lot of use.  And if you bug me, I'm sending you right back to Rudy."

That was an effective threat.  Dorian liked Rudy.  He just didn't like living with Rudy.

And John?  He loved living with John.  Now he got to be with his partner and take care of him twenty four hours a day instead of simply during work hours.  John needed him.  He needed someone to have his back, and now Dorian could do that--without even having to tap into his electronic home equipment to monitor him.

But sometimes watching his partner's back meant unpleasant things--such as this conversation.  Humans, it had been statistically proven, were touchy about their mass, size, and BMI.  To Dorian the important thing was health, not shape or size.  Sexbots were always the "perfect" shape and size, but there was nothing real about them, at least not compared to humans.  Humans?  They were fascinating.  

But they were also mortal, and Dorian worried about John's lifespan.  A lot.

He spoke in a carefully modulated, calm voice, the one he would use to talk to a worked up civilian, a manner that exuded calm.  It was pretty much his natural state, but he tried extra hard now to look calm and friendly.  He cocked his head sideways slightly.  "According to my records, we've ordered pizza every night now for a week.  Pizzas, especially the ones you've ordered, have a higher than healthy ratio of unhealthy fats and refined carbohydrates to vegetables, healthy proteins, and complex carbohydrates.

"Damn, it's like I'm back in school," groused John.  He double-tapped to add extra pepperoni, a slightly lecherous grin taking over his face.  John  _loved_  pizza.  More than good health, apparently.

"Maybe you should have listened better back in school," said Dorian calmly.  "Then you would be eating more healthily now."

"Quit being a nag or I'll send you back to Rudy."

Dorian held still for two point five seconds -- very still.  Then he spoke calmly, naturally.  "That's the first time you've pulled out that threat since inviting me to live with you."

John snorted.  "'Invited.'  I hardly call giving in to your nagging 'inviting'--"

Dorian spoke over John.  He was getting good at that.  Sometimes, it was the only way to say what needed said.  "Therefore, this must be important to you.  I can only conclude that eating pizza laden with as many unhealthy ingredients as you can find on your pizza app is more important to you than living a long, healthy life, John."

"Really?  Guilt trips?"  He raised an eyebrow and leaned forward on his kitchen table, resting his elbows on it.  One of them landed on the garlic sauce icon, and the garlic sauce side orders began to multiply, clicking from one to two to three to four--

Dorian stepped forward and gently moved his partner's elbow.  He took a deep breath -- or simulated taking a deep breath, because he didn't actually breathe.  But he was programmed to respond as humanly as possible, and that was a very human "give me strength" reaction.  

John looked down at what he'd accidentally ordered.  "Damn."  He swiped it clean, and added just one sauce.

Dorian tried again.  It was difficult to make himself say this, with threat of Rudy hanging over his head, and his emotional side coming even further into play.  Not only was he worried about John's health, but now he was feeling that emotion he hated most of all: rejection.  John probably had no clue how terrible he felt when he rejected Dorian.  Most likely he wouldn't care if he did.  Dorian tried to keep from showing his emotional nature all the time.  If there was one thing John hated, it was an overly emotional android.  Clearly.

"I was simply suggesting that you go easy on the toppings, John.  Or you could allow me to make a pizza for you, with homemade ingredients.  Whole grain flour.  More olive oil and less saturated and partially hydrogenated oils.  A few more vegetables.  Perhaps a little less pepperoni."

"Really?"  John looked up from the table and the app spread wide on it.  He blinked.  "You'd cook for me?"

"Of course I'd cook for you, John."  Dorian smiled.  It must have been too sweet of a smile, because John looked away again, with that expression he got when there was too much emotion in the room.  

  
_At least from the stupid android_ , thought Dorian, and his synthetic soul ached. 

He tried again.  "I am simply saying it would be logical for me to cook for you sometimes.  I don't require sleep, and my charging doesn't take as long as sleep takes for you.  So I could use the extra time while you're asleep and I'm not charging to go grocery shopping and prepare recipes and meals for you."  He spoke calmly and, he hoped, logically.

"You're doing that thing again," muttered John, not looking at him.  He scraped a hand back through his hair and sighed.

"Thing?  What thing?"  Dorian tried to smile, but it faltered on his lips.

"Trying to be an MX."  He met Dorian's gaze with a dark with a scowl.  

"I don't know what you're--"

"Oh come on, yes you do know.  You start saying 'logical' and throwing statistics around.  Don't try to shit me, Dorian."

"Yes, John."  He sat down on the second chair at the table and looked down at the app.  He traced his finger over the extra cheese, dragging some of it back off.

John reached over and slapped his hand away--swatted, really, and not too roughly.  Dorian removed his hand.

"I'll eat what I damned well want."

"Yes, John.  I know you will."

"But I'm not gonna die, so stop pouting."

"How do you know what will happen if you eat like that every day?"

"It's not every day.  It's just been a hard week adjusting to everything, okay?"

Dorian sat very still.  He didn't say anything.  It took all his processing power not to start crying.  His voice would have sounded funny if he'd tried to talk.

John sighed.  "It's not you, okay?  Well, it's partly you.  It's...it's just been a difficult week.  I like to eat pizza when I'm stressed."

"You can talk to me if you're experiencing excess stress."

"Not everybody feels better when they talk about their shit, Dorian."

"Yes."  He thought about that, realized it was true.  There were so many things John didn't like to talk about, things that bothered him.  He usually ended up getting disproportionately grumpy about something entirely different.  And he got even more annoyed if this was pointed out to him.

John put a hand on his shoulder, and Dorian looked up and stared at it there on his shoulder, because that so rarely happened.

John's hand held a sturdy pressure, and he didn't remove it instantly.  Through his sensitive sensor skin, Dorian felt the body temperature of his partner--normal--and the dry skin: not sweaty, not nervous.  His pressure was steady and he kept it there, till Dorian met his gaze.

John held his gaze steady, his expression showing that rare glimpse of the trustworthy, earnest, heartfelt man he usually hid under jokes, jibes, and a generally curmudgeonly attitude.

"I'm not gonna die," he said.  His gaze was a sure promise.

"You will, though," said Dorian in almost a whisper.  "Someday.  If I can't protect you.  Or if I can, and you get really old for a human, and your heart gives out."  He gestured to his chest, where his heart would be if he was a human like John.

John removed his hand from Dorian's shoulder and cleared his throat.  His Adam's apple bobbled as he swallowed hard.  "That's not happening."

"But it will, John.  Why do you need to hurry that process along?  I'm simply saying, you should take care of yourself, or let me take care of you.  Let me help.  Don't do dangerous things on the job -- let me take the risks -- and don't put things in your body that will hurt you."

He snorted.  "Pizza's not gonna kill me, buddy."

"Okay, but--"

"I'm not dying.  Hear me?"

"But--"

He moved closer, catching Dorian's face, drawing him closer, so he was forced to meet John's gaze.  "I'm not going anywhere, not for a long, long time.  And neither are you.  Not for a long, long time.  Okay?"  He drew back, giving Dorian's face a kind of gentle swat on one side.

He felt his blue lines light up, as he tried to process the conflicting data.  The gentleness and roughness and assurance conflicting with the undeniable facts that he was going to die someday.

"You worry too much," said John, and his voice was rough.  "You need to stop thinking so much."

Dorian didn't say anything.  Was that possible--for an android?

John sighed.  "I want you to calm down about this.  I'll let you cook me a meal tomorrow, all right?  If I can stand to eat it, you can feed me instead of the takeaway companies."

"Really? John, I--"  The smile sprang to his face, and he rose quickly to his feet.  "I'll get started right now."

John raised his hands, also rising to his feet.  "Sometimes.  I meant to add 'sometimes.'"

"Thank you, John!"  Dorian moved forward impulsively and grabbed his partner into a hug.

"Somebody needs a recharge," grumbled John.  But he patted Dorian's back.  

"I'll make you the best pizza ever," said Dorian, squeezing his eyes shut.   _The best healthy pizza._

He wasn't going to lose John, not before he had to.  Not for a long, long,  _long_  time.

 

 


End file.
